


Tiramisu

by ladyflowdi



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflowdi/pseuds/ladyflowdi
Summary: David and Patrick are married for two hundred and eighty-one days the first time they share Jake’s dick between them.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/Jake/David Rose
Comments: 38
Kudos: 239





	Tiramisu

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100%, straight up porn with no redeeming value. Mind the tags, friends. 
> 
> Thank you to my rosebuddy [yourbuttervoicedbeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau) for the beta!

David and Patrick are married for two hundred and eighty-one days the first time they share Jake’s dick between them.

How they’d come to the point where they were ready to share Jake’s dick between them was the most beautiful example of growth David had ever gotten to experience first-hand. In two years Patrick had gone from being a man who shook like a kitten in a rainstorm when David kissed along the column of his throat to _this_ beautiful person, someone who knew exactly what they wanted but had no idea how to ask for it. 

It had been there, right from the beginning, though David hadn’t cottoned on to what was happening until Ted and the drunken slumber party kiss, Patrick’s earnest answer of, “Both,” to who he was jealous of. He and Patrick hadn’t yet been in a place where they could have a frank conversation about their own needs, partly because Patrick didn’t know he could want it but also because David had been on his own journey of personal growth. By the time Ken and his itty-bitty polo waltzed into the store David was a mess of nerves, not yet on quite solid ground but learning, learning all the time, to trust in himself, and trust in Patrick. 

And then Jake, his stupid flannel two sizes too small, and his cheerful, laissez-faire approach to life, had waltzed into their lives with a new coffee table and an inviting smirk.

While it was true that David wasn’t what anyone would call _informed_ , he’d had longer to live fully in the beauty of his queerness, to think about the things he wanted, to learn from the people around him. So he talked to Patrick, about why applying hetero-normative principals to their relationship wasn’t healthy, because it forced the two of them – beautiful, strong triangles – into squares that couldn’t fit them. 

They’d talked in the car, on long drives to Elmdale, to vendors, to Elm Valley to sign for their new SUV. They’d talked while opening a joint checking account, and buying groceries, where Patrick only gently reminded him that red vines weren’t a major food group and David had to issue an ultimatum on the cheap hand soap Patrick preferred but which was turning David’s knuckles to sandpaper. They’d talked at the kitchen table of their new, beautiful little money-pit of a cottage, over coffee.

And then, once Patrick was assured in their love together, in their _life_ together, and he was ready to explore the parts of his sexuality he never had before, they’d talked to Jake and laid down some fucking Ground Rules.

“We want to have sex with you,” David had opened, cut-throat and to-the-point, because Jake was a golden retriever of a human being and required the direct approach, as evidenced by the whiskey mishap of 2019. 

Jake, predictably, had beamed at them from across the cafe’s dining table. His flannel today was not one, but _two_ sizes too small, and unbuttoned nearly to his navel. He looked like the cover model for _Queer Woodworkers._ “Hey, that’s nice. That would be fun.”

“We have rules,” David had continued, because he wasn’t a stupid man and because Jake would take the mile if they gave him an inch. “No other people. If this is going to happen, it’s just the three of us.”

 _Visibly crestfallen_ wasn’t a description David ever thought he’d attribute to someone in real life, but here they were. “Oh. Okay. Are you sure?”

Patrick had frozen next to him and David had squeezed their hands, laced tightly together on the tabletop. “Yes.”

The rasp of Jake’s stubble as he rubbed his hand over his mouth had made Patrick’s breath catch in a tiny little tick only David understood, with this, his doctorate on the language of Patrick’s body. “Okay. Fair enough. What are you looking for?”

“Sex. The three of us. Patrick wants come-play, so before this goes any further, would you be willing to get tested?”

He could _feel_ his husband blushing, but Jake had just looked curious, thoughtful, like he had these kinds of conversations all the time. Maybe he did. Maybe he negotiated threesomes at the cafe over brunch on the regular. David wouldn’t put it past him. After all, there was precedent.

“I get tested every three months but I’d up my timetable for you, cutie,” Jake had told Patrick, and David had watched, gobsmacked, as Patrick went _shy_ , dropping his eyes and squeezing David’s hand for dear life, the tips of his ears bright red. _Shy_ , a word that had never once crossed David’s mind in relation to Patrick Brewer, a man who threw himself into every new problem like a knight storming a castle, a man who took no prisoners and demanded the right to be taught, to grow in this new life he had built for himself.

Jake, the most clueless, beautiful human being, who lived solely in the flesh and loved no one but himself, had reached out, then, and covered their laced hands gently with his own. Patrick had instantly relaxed his death grip, and Jake had brushed his thumb with infinite tenderness along their intertwined fingers. Across their wedding rings. “What else are you looking for, boys?”

What they were looking for was Jake’s hot fucking dick. 

It’s a good dick, not as thick as David’s, and not even close to Patrick’s, but what it lacked in girth it made up for in length. Long and curved _just so,_ it was the kind of dick that had been put on this earth to tag prostates like a fucking homing missile, the kind of dick that was intensely satisfying to suck in the way that tiramisu was delicious to eat – an occasional, decadent treat far too rich for everyday consumption. It’s a _hot dick_ , with big, bison-sized balls that had once pressed into David’s chin when David got down on his knees, once slapped against his ass when Jake put some muscle behind those hips.

“Just like that,” he murmurs from above them, but David barely hears it over the rushing in his ears. 

David had forgotten the taste of Jake’s dick, and all the synapses in his brain are firing off at once, not because of the hot dick but because that’s _Patrick’s tongue_ that keeps tangling with his on the slit, that’s his husband whimpering against his cheek when David won’t let him have a taste. The heady flavor of Jake’s slippery precome against his lips, mixed with the woodsy scent of Patrick’s skin, is making his head spin. He moans pitilessly when Patrick nudges him into a kiss, the head of Jake’s cock between them.

Their guest room is warm, because it’s the only bedroom that faces the setting sun and the afternoon had warmed the winter chill out of the air. Jake is sitting on the side of the bed, jeans around his ankles and his stupid flannel unbuttoned and wide open, David and Patrick naked and kneeling at his feet. David knows they’re going to need to get him naked too at some point, but that point is not right now, with Patrick so turned on. He’s flushed pink and streaked with sweat, smudges of bruises popping up on his shoulders and his waist, and his cock is painting his thighs with precome, but it’s his eyes that are killing David dead. They’re _enormous,_ the honey brown lost in black pupil, and when David asks, “Okay, honey?”, Jake’s cock against his cheek, Patrick makes a sound like a sob. He darts forward to lick the flat of his tongue up Jake’s cockhead, across David’s cheek, before kissing him hard, slippery and wet between them.

“He’s just fine,” Jake murmurs, _amused,_ though not in that obnoxious, satisfied male way that made David want to punch him in the face. He’s smiling with honest pleasure, and he runs his fingers gently through David’s hair as they watch Patrick fit his plush, swollen mouth over Jake’s cockhead again, sucking like a starving man. “He’s so beautiful, David.”

“I know,” David says, watching Patrick’s eyes flutter as he tries to push Jake deeper, skin flushed up and pink, sweat trickling down his neck. His ears are red, and David brushes his mouth over the tip of the one nearest him. Patrick smells like cock right here, from where he’d rubbed his cheek against Jake’s dick when they’d first come down to their knees. “Isn’t he good?”

“He’s such a good boy,” Jake says, casually and with far more control than David himself would have – has had – when Patrick was trying to choke himself on his cock. Patrick moans wildly, and Jake pets his hair, gentle, gentle. “Bit different from you, but I can tell how you taught him.”

“You like the twist of his tongue on the upstroke?” David asks, and Patrick is almost sobbing now, and he darts out for David’s hand, lacing their fingers. David nudges Patrick with his nose, trying to catch Jake’s dick when Patrick comes back up. He fails twice, but on the third time Patrick has to breathe and David takes over. 

Patrick still hadn’t figured out the breathing-to-sucking ratio good deepthroating requires, but David had learned this skill at the shrine of a beautiful drag queen named Rotifa who choked him with her dick for four months until he learned to breathe around it. Patrick presses his face against David’s and breathes like he’s just run a marathon, feeling the shape of Jake’s dick through David’s cheek, and David _knows_ Patrick gets cock-hungry but there’s something about this, about sharing one between them, that’s doing it for his husband in a way David has never seen before. _Tiramisu,_ he thinks, too rich for everyday consumption, but if Patrick was going to go wild like this every time they indulged, _cry_ like this, David was going to make sure his beautiful husband had all the fucking tiramisu he wanted in this goddamned world. 

He comes up and Patrick darts in, licking the string of spit and precome attaching David’s lips to Jake’s dick, and they share a smeared kiss, wilder than anything they’ve ever had together. They tear at each other with teeth and tongue, and Jake groans above them, his fingers in their hair, stroking, tightening, and David’s head is swimming with how good this is, how much he realizes he wanted it, not just for Patrick but for himself. 

Patrick is solid and strong and _small,_ such a compact little thing, words David would never utter aloud but which he thinks about _all the fucking time._ It takes nothing to hoist him up into Jake’s waiting arms, for Jake to get his hands under Patrick’s knees and pull him right into his lap, and it’s worth it for the way Patrick goes wild. He breathes like he’s forgotten how, gasping and streaked with precome and sweat, and his arms scramble around Jake’s neck and then Jake is kissing David’s husband and it is the most beautiful thing David has ever seen in his entire life. From his vantage point on the floor between Jake’s legs, he gets to watch as Patrick’s hole _flutters_ , calling to him, his thick legs spread wide by Jake’s, his balls hanging low and his ass clenching as he tries to find his equilibrium perched on Jake’s lap.

Patrick muffles a scream above him, but David barely hears it, from where he’s buried.

Patrick’s cheeks flex around his face but David holds them out of the way with both hands, and proceeds to give Patrick the ass eating of his goddamned life. David has always loved going down on his partners, men and women alike, and teaching Patrick to not only allow it but to _like_ it had been one of the crowning achievements of his life. The first night he was able to reduce Patrick to wild, terrible tears, working his prostate with unforgiving strokes of his fingers and rasping his stubble along that swollen, red little hole, had felt like he’d won the lottery. He can hear those same sounds above him now, as Patrick wails into Jake’s mouth and Jake laughs like the dick he is. He reaches down to hold Patrick’s cheeks out of David’s way, tilting Patrick’s hips back just enough that it’s easy for David to pull Patrick’s cock back between his legs, to lick and suck at the head just to hear Patrick go wild.

“Getting you ready, honey,” David says, sinking his teeth into one gorgeous ass cheek before nibbling back down the center, to his prize. Patrick’s hole is starting to go puffy, red, and the sounds his husband is making into Jake’s shoulder are _gorgeous._ Jake isn’t unaffected; between the shadow of Patrick’s clenching thighs he can see Jake’s dick, blood-red and rigid, hard as anything and soaking wet from precome and spit. “You want that dick?”

Patrick moans, loudly, but Jake’s caught on to the game now, lifting Patrick’s chin gently and murmuring, “Use your words, beautiful.”

“He goes nonverbal when I eat his ass,” David says, sly, and Jake’s eyes crinkle over Patrick’s shoulder because Patrick is _falling apart_ between them and it’s so beautiful, so _adorable._ David remembers the intensity of his first threesome, how everything felt so much _louder,_ the smell of two people, the different textures of their hands, the heat of being caught between them. He _loves_ giving this to Patrick, loves that his husband is enjoying it so much. “He loves it. Loves when I press my tongue in, get him wet. _Loves_ when I fuck him with it, when I rub my beard against his ass.”

“I love an eaten-out hole,” Jake says, and the sound Patrick makes is _inhuman._ “The first press -- it’s so soft and open. Hot from being fucked. Your husband is making your hole just like that for me,” Jake whispers to Patrick, and David grips the root of his dick, _hard,_ shuddering against Patrick’s ass cheek. Patrick is leaking so much precome it’s puddling underneath them on the hardwood. “Is that what you want, cutie? You want to be fucked?”

“Please,” and it’s outright begging this time, the words tumbling from Patrick’s lips. “Please, I need to be fucked. _Please_.”

Jake’s eyes are crinkled up with joy, and without looking away from Patrick he says, “David, get up on the bed. Belly down. Put one of those black pillows under your hips.”

Patrick may actually be sobbing, thinking he’s been denied, and David laughs and kisses his hip, his lower back, before climbing to his feet. His own arousal has been only a background thought but as he clambers up onto the bed, spreads himself out on his belly, it comes roaring back to the forefront. He groans, his hips jerking against the pillow he shoves under him, and he gets a slap to the ass for his trouble. It’s a good smack, full-bodied and hard, and he moans again, louder, before stilling. “Sorry,” he whispers, looking over his shoulder at where Jake has his eyebrow arched. Patrick is a mess against Jake’s throat, writhing in his lap, and David remembers, abruptly, who is in charge. “Sorry,” he says again, and Patrick’s cock jerks against Jake’s belly where they’re pressed together. 

“Can I trust you to stay still, David? Are you going to be good for me?” Jake asks, because it isn’t a game for him. Jake is calm and chill and easygoing almost to a fault, but in the bedroom he’s in charge, he always has been and always would be. He knows how to make everyone have a good time, and Patrick is _David’s_ but tonight both of them are Jake’s. 

“I’m going to be good,” he says, and flexes his hips just a little, because he knows Patrick likes it. “I’m going to be so good for you.”

“And you, beautiful?” Jake asks, stroking Patrick’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Are you going to be good?”

“Yes, yes, I’m going to be good,” Patrick gasps, catching Jake’s fingers between his lips. He gets like this sometimes, when he’s so overwhelmed by the love David is giving him that he needs something to suck. David has gotten him to that point half a dozen times over their relationship, and that he’s there _now,_ that he’s sucking Jake’s fingers while looking at David’s ass, reminds David threefold that he made the right choice tonight.

“Yeah, you are,” Jake murmurs, smiling, and kisses Patrick’s little button nose. “I want you to lay down on your husband, cutie, your chest to his back. You’re gonna spread your legs right out, so I can see both of these beautiful asses that are mine tonight.”

Patrick stares at him like he’s just spoken another language and David groans, low and deep, pressing his forehead to the bedding as he pictures it, pictures what Jake will see, the two of them presented to him for fucking, stacked one atop the other. Maybe he’ll dip into whoever makes it best for him, and when they begin to tire, he’ll try the other. Maybe he’ll fuck them like that all night. Patrick will cry and gasp into his ear and David will try not to fall apart because - because when he envisioned tonight it was all for Patrick, to make his husband feel good, to fulfill a fantasy Patrick has been carrying for years. He never expected to get washed away in it too, but such is Jake’s fucking mastery. 

Patrick clambers on top of him, his little husband who is heavy as fuck when he presses David down into the sheets, and his gut clenches because usually when Patrick climbs onto him, what follows is _getting fucked._ His mind knows tonight is different but his body is stupid, and his ass flexes without his meaning it to and he groans into their bedding. Patrick is breathing like he’s drowning, his cock a steel bar pressed against the small of David’s back, and David clenches a hand in his own hair to get himself back under control.

Patrick is lost in what they’re doing, but not so lost that he doesn’t kiss the back of David’s neck, his ear, his shoulder, and wind their fingers together. “We’re going to get fucked,” he whimpers, and fuck, _fuck._ He can hear Jake moving behind them, undressing, but he still startles when Jake presses his thighs wider, helplessly moving Patrick’s too where they’re hooked over David’s legs. 

“Oh,” Jake murmurs, and brushes his rough thumb over David’s hole, then Patrick’s, if the way his husband jerks on his back is any indication. He kneels behind them, big, _so big,_ and leans over Patrick’s back to kiss him. It presses David helplessly into the sheets, the sound of their mouths in his ear, and David thinks he might have made a severe tactical error because he isn’t going to make it out of this alive. Jake leans down deeper over Patrick, the full weight of him pressing Patrick into David’s back, and Patrick whimpers, breathless, as Jake kisses David too, sloppy and wet. “Oh, boys. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

His weight comes up and David can breathe again, and Patrick rubs his face against the back of David’s shoulder, shuddering, and David’s world has collapsed to Patrick, the way his chest heaves against David’s back, the way his fingers scramble to lace tightly with his. Jake is an enormous presence behind them, between their legs, the heat of his thighs on the backs of David’s. David had brought _Lube Me Tender_ from the store because it had turned out to be the best anal lube he’d ever tried, slippery with staying power. He can smell it, the faint scent making him feel like _home,_ utterly and painfully certain that he will never be able to smell it again without thinking of this moment. 

Patrick jerks over his back, his hips rolling once against the plush expanse of David’s ass, and lets out the breathiest, deepest sigh he’s ever heard his husband make. He rolls his forehead against David’s back and whimpers, “Two. It’s two.”

“You’re so open, honey,” he says back, pressing kisses to Patrick’s fingers there on the bed next to him. “You opened to my mouth, you can take two. You can take _more._ You’re going to need to take more.”

“It feels so good,” Patrick gasps, then lets out a loud, wild sound, hips arching. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Sensitive,” Jake murmurs behind them, stroking his fingers gently along David’s thigh. “He has a sensitive prostate, David.”

“I know,” because how could he not. “He can come from it.”

“Oh?” Jake asks, and does _something_ that makes Patrick cry out. “That might be fun, later tonight.”

“Later?” Patrick gasps, bless, because he hasn’t realized that the tiramisu he’s eating really is too rich for regular consumption. He’ll figure it out at about three in the morning, David is sure.

“David’s turn,” Jake murmurs, and then David feels those body-warmed, slick fingers press into him. He jerks, badly, because he was empty and suddenly he’s _not,_ and he claws at the bedding for a minute as that delicious lick of pain flickers up his back. He groans, and Patrick presses kisses to his shoulder, his cheek, his neck, whimpering to him as David rides out that initial, invasive stretch. Jake likes the way his ass moves when he’s taken by surprise, he’s told him so many times, and David’s toes dig into the bedding as Jake strokes deep, hitting his prostate with homing-beacon accuracy. He rubs, gently yet not, not the way Patrick fingers him, and his knuckles aren’t as wide, so it only takes a minute before he comes back with three and David fists his fingers in the blankets over his head and cries out.

Jake works his ass like an instrument until he feels swollen open, wet, grasping for more, _more._ “Soon,” Jake murmurs, and leans down to kiss the small of Patrick’s back. “Your husband gets it first.”

The moan that comes out of Patrick is something David will treasure all the days of his life. His soft, whimpering cries when Jake makes good on his promise will be the soundtrack of their sex life for years to come. The way Patrick freezes on top of him as he takes the second cock of his life, the way he writhes when it goes too deep on the first try, the way Jake makes him _take it_. He’s breathing so hard, so loudly, in David’s ear, and David is kissing his fingers where they’re tangled with David’s, stroking the back of his head when Patrick buries his face in David’s shoulder. 

Then Jake pulls back, and Patrick is fucked. 

There’s a reason Jake has the reputation he does. The reason he regularly has whiskey nights, and the reason why Stevie had stayed with him as long as she had. Jake fucks like no one David has ever met. 

He goes piston-hard from the first press, and he fucks like it’s the end of the world and this is the last time he’ll get to have sex. He fucks _deep,_ and does not care one iota for the pleasure of the person he’s fucking other than what’s in it for him. It’s honest sex, devoid of feelings any deeper than the surface, but that was what makes him so good for a first-time threesome. He zeroes in on prostates and g-spots so the hot channel he’s fucking will seize up around his dick and make it better for him, and loves sex for the pleasure it gives him and coincidentally, the pleasure it gives his partners. He isn’t selfish, but he isn’t unselfish either -- he’s a creature that lives for this and loves this, for the act alone and none of the feelings that come with it. 

Jake is a powerhouse, and David hadn’t realized that there was a place in his life with Patrick to have this. That he wanted it, maybe just as much as Patrick did.

Patrick is making sounds David has never heard from him before, because Jake fucks like a porn star, Jake _does not let up._ That was what fucking Jake _is_ – get on the train or get off the tracks. David had nearly been killed in the hurricane of it, had walked bow-legged for weeks, satisfied somewhere deep inside that thrilled at this kind of sex, and just as certain that at the end of this path was his destruction. Patrick is going to _ache,_ sore and bedridden for days, fucked out in a way only Jake could fuck someone out. He was going to come up with a million bruises, his pale skin mottled and ugly, and David is going to kiss and tongue against each one just to make Patrick sob. 

His husband makes a cry like _pain_ and Jake says, “I’ll be right back, cutie,” and then David’s entire world is encapsulated by the dick fucking into him.

 _The sounds he makes._ He tries not to listen to himself, but Patrick is shaking with the force of his whimpers, kissing David’s cheek, the tear tracks on his face, as Jake bullies into him, spreading him deep. Patrick’s cock is a national treasure, shorter than his but infinitely wider, and when Patrick fucks him he spreads him _wide open,_ works all those nerve endings and lights David on fire. Getting fucked by Patrick is like nothing he’s ever experienced, _being loved,_ the physical manifestation of what Patrick feels for him, what they feel for each other. 

Being fucked by Jake is like being at the eye of a storm.

His cock feels no better or worse than Patrick’s, just different. David can’t catch up to his rhythm, anticipate his movements; all he can do is lay under the weight of his husband and _be fucked._ And God, David is being fucked, he jerks out a hand to press against the headboard so he and Patrick won’t be shoved up against it as Jake takes handfuls of their asses, their thighs, and jackrabbits him with such force that David is going to feel it for _days_. It feels so good he wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life, Patrick sweat-soaked and sobbing on top of him, Jake spreading him so wide it hurts and fucking into him, in a way he can’t hide from.

“Oh Patrick, it’s alright beautiful,” Jake says, breathless. “David, your husband is trying to get his fingers into himself. He wants it so much. Can I give it back to him?”

David feels swollen, hot, _wild,_ and the noise he makes is just as swollen, hot, wild, his eyes rolling back at the thought of Patrick _being so hungry for cock_ he was trying to stuff his fingers into his own hole. Patrick rubs his face against David’s shoulder, shuddering, past speech, and David thinks Patrick is going to come against his back any second, that Patrick isn’t going to be able to hold on. 

Jake doesn’t wait for him to say yes or no, pulling out and then sinking into Patrick if the way his husband’s breathing hitches violently is any indication. Jake is slower this time, less frantic, working his hips in short, sharp bursts, and Patrick fists his fingers in David’s hair, mouth open against the sweat along the nape of David’s neck. He sounds _drunk,_ and David has had some crazy, wild sex, but he has never felt like he does now. 

Jake, and Jake’s blessed stamina, fucks them for what feels like hours. He trades off, taking them each to the precipice over, and over, and over, and David’s back is slick with Patrick’s precome, the bedding ruined under his own trapped, aching cock. Patrick can’t speak, reduced to tears that pour down his flushed, red face. Jake fucks them like he could fuck them all night, and David thinks he _could,_ that they’ll be trapped here, stacked like dominoes, for Jake’s pleasure for the rest of their days. 

David starts to beg, Patrick whimpering against his neck as Jake fucks him deep, “Please, please Jake, let us come, please let us come,” and Jake groans and pulls Patrick’s hips back hard and then David arches up, wild as a tomcat, when Patrick’s dick presses into his ass. Wide, so much wider than Jake’s, so _deep_ , and he scrabbles at the mattress and wails and Jake fucks him through Patrick, and oh, God, his husband is getting daisy-chained, he says it, chants it, “Fuck me, Jake, fuck me, please fuck me,” and Patrick sinks his teeth into David’s shoulder and comes. 

He’s coming as Jake piston-fucks him, coming as David fists the sheets in his hand and _shrieks,_ coming as Jake finally pushes once, twice, three times into Patrick and stills, grunting and groaning. The sounds of them, of their fucking, the wet squelch of come, _is not enough_ and he can’t come, _can’t come._ Jake pulls back, and so does Patrick by extension, and David is flat-out _sobbing,_ but those are his husband’s strong hands pulling him back onto his knees, those are Jake’s big palms spreading him wide. 

That’s Patrick’s tongue, eating his own come out of him. That’s Jake’s smug, sweat-streaked, red and smiling face, under David’s hips as he reaches up and sucks him down.

It takes less than thirty seconds, and David comes like he hasn’t in years.

Later. Later, Patrick will be shy, will smile at Jake and ask him if he’d be open to this again sometime, and Jake will smile back and say, _You two are great, I’d love to._ Later, after they’ve slept and showered, Jake will leave with a lingering kiss for both of them, stroking his hands gently through their hair, with that open, easy smile that hides multitudes, a lake so deep no one has ever tried to reach the bottom. Jake deserves someone who would at least try, and David tells him so, but Jake just smiles that smile and leaves, in his stupid tiny flannel and the swagger of his slender hips.

Later, the bruises will come up, and Patrick will realize just how much pain he’s in once the endorphins wear off, and they’ll be stuck in bed half the next morning, groaning at each other and laughing and rock-paper-scissoring who will get up to get the coffee going. David wins (he always wins) and Patrick will limp out of their bedroom, sore and bruised and so beautiful David can’t stand it, and when he comes back with coffee he’ll hiss as he sits down, and blush to the roots of his hair, and David will tuck him back under the covers for the rest of the day. 

But right now, right now. David collapses half on Jake’s face, and Jake laughs hysterically from where he’s trapped under David’s thigh and Patrick’s chin is streaked with come and he’s looking at them wild-eyed like he can’t believe what they just did. Jake gets himself out from under David’s hip and tugs Patrick between them, snuggling him down on the bed and hugging him so hard Patrick squeaks. “I knew this was going to be great,” Jake says, beaming, and David moans pitifully, his face pressed into a pillow, and Patrick is making low, animal sounds in his throat. “This was so much fun.”

“So much fun,” David gasps, and laces his fingers through Patrick’s, kissing his husband’s ring three, four, five times. “Sleep now. Shhh.”

Jake beams at him from over Patrick’s shoulder, nuzzling into Patrick’s ear. “You’re going to need your strength for round two,” he agrees, and Patrick moans pitifully.


End file.
